


The Crest of Mount Arion

by scifishipper



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Canon-compliant Death, Cylons, F/M, Gen, Identity Issues, Redemption, References to Greek Myths, canon-level violence, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifishipper/pseuds/scifishipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Boomer ever wants to be free, she has to decide what she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crest of Mount Arion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Evolution](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/56596) by lostinapapercup. 



> _Arion was a famous Greek performer who was well known for the fantastic myth of his capture by pirates. As the story goes, Arion was given a choice of suicide with a proper land-burial or being thrown into the sea to perish. He asked for permission to play a song before his death, and the music was so beautiful that he attracted dolphins. When the song was finished, he chose to jump into the sea where the dolphins rescued him and carried him back to land._

Galactica’s hangar bay is as busy and frenetic as Boomer remembers. The sound and feel of the raptor is familiar, too, although its metal is more scratched and paint more worn than it had been all those years ago. Her fingers itch to be at the controls, the long-held memories of her former life as a pilot forcing their way into the strands of her muscles. It’s also the last time she will ever be on board Galactica, the first place that’d felt like home since her family had been lost on Troy. Now, she knows, of course, that it had been a lie anyway, implanted memories that had never really been hers. But the man in front of her — with dark eyes, round cheeks and a rounder belly — he had been real. And she had loved him. 

“Come with me,” she says to Galen, eyes pleading. “I can’t do it without you.” She remembers the sensations of their projected Picon home, the warm wood and fresh flowers, the crisp air coming off the water until well after Equinox. Her body yearns for it and she knows he wants it, too. 

But Galen pauses, wincing as he glances around _his_ ship. It’s his home more than it was ever hers. She thinks for a moment that maybe the ship’s a thing he’s loved more than her.

“I can’t,” he answers, but she sees the frown, the tightening of his brow, the way his lips want to say something else. 

“Galen. Please. You are one of us. Like me...” She clutches his fingers between her hands and pulls him over the edge of the raptor’s hatch and into the ship. When they’re out of sight, she presses her mouth to his, convincing him to stay with her breath and lips and the promise of what they could have together.

He sighs into her, wrapping his arms around her back, pulling her close to taste more of her mouth. She senses his agreement and hits the hatch closure. They are locked in an embrace as the heavy metal door lowers and snaps into place. She feels his body shudder under her touch; it travels through her, as well, along with a jolt of fear about Hera, still hidden inside the trunk. She doesn’t want to think what will happen when Galen finds out. She pushes the thoughts away and finishes the kiss, leaning her forehead against Galen’s, pressing into him an image of their house on Picon, their daughter, the life they never had. _But we will,_ she whispers into the projection. _I love you._

With a breath, she leans away from him. “It’s time,” she says and he gives her a crooked smile. When she sees the doubt re-emerge, she squeezes his hand and pulls him to sit at the ECO station. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

With a heavy breath he sits, now committed, and she slides into the cockpit. Moments later, she gets clearance, and lifts off to move out of Galactica’s bay. When insistent chatter sounds over the comm, she silences it, engages the FTL and jumps.

* * * * *

Four hours later, Boomer types in the coordinates for the last jump and sighs with relief as the ship pops into space outside the purple and green facade of the Colony. She maneuvers the raptor into the maw of the massive station and settles onto the center of the landing pad. Flicking the seatbelt off, her legs take her out of the cockpit and to Galen’s side. He’s out cold, drugged by a double dose of sedative. She presses a finger to his neck, feeling the strong pulse, then brushes a kiss across his lips. He’ll understand about Hera, she says to herself, ignoring the doubting voice in the back of her mind. After everything she’s done, he still loves her.

She leaves his side and looks at the child sleeping in the open foot locker, soft skin and dark hair framing a face reminiscent of her own. She ignores the pending experiments that Cavil will perform on her, remembers that she’s just a biological thing anyway, given magical status by a bunch of human-obsessed models. It makes her sick, the fawning and awe-filled words the other rebels croon at each other. _A human loves Athena. Hera is a blessed child of love._ The whole thing makes her gag. Cavil is right to reject the rebels. He’s given her freedom, freedom from the whining, indecisive, emotionally compromised Eights she’s come to hate. 

With a hand that’s too rough, she shakes Hera until she starts to rouse, eyes popping open with sudden fear. She begins to cry. “It’s okay, Hera. We’re here. You are going to be fine.”

The little girl whines, a sharp sound that zings straight through Boomer’s brain. She frowns and tries not to glare at her. 

“All right, that’s enough. Just stand up and let’s go.” She pulls Hera up to her feet, holding onto her as she wavers. “You’re fine. Here, why don’t you finish your sweet.” She gives her the half-eaten cupcake and scoops her up in her arms.

The hatch whirs open and she steps out with Hera’s legs wrapped around her waist. The girl presses her face into Boomer’s neck and she thinks about how stupid she is to trust her. How powerless. Boomer shudders along with the hatch mechanisms as she closes it behind her. With quick fingers, she types the lock code and strides off the wing. 

It’s a short walk to Cavil and his triumphant face and gloating words about his victory over Ellen. He leans towards Hera and flicks one of her curls, murmuring false comforts. Instinctively, Boomer tightens her grip, then releases when he pulls the girl towards him. The child’s warmth disappears, leaving Boomer’s hands clammy, blood draining from her face. She feels cold and weak as she watches Hera wriggle in his arms, a whine just starting to emerge from her tiny throat.

Cavil grasps the girl tighter and begins to walk away. “You’ve had a hard day. Go get some rest.” 

As he disappears behind the frosted divider, the little girl begins to plead, “Boomer! No! Boomer!” 

With Hera’s sharp cries ringing in her ears, Boomer presses her hands hard against her head and spins away from the scene. _Oh, my god, what have I done?_

She rushes back through the corridors with eyes unseeing, mind twisting around the suddenly very real implications of what it means to have given Hera to Cavil. How the girl will suffer. How Galen will never understand. Feelings boil up into her throat, defying the nature of the machine she’s tried to be, the one that Cavil wanted her to be.

Climbing onto the raptor’s wing, she hesitates, sees her hand shaking as it hovers over the hatch’s lock control. She stares at it like it’s not her own: machines don’t shake. Why does her body betray her? Why is she so human?

She takes a deep breath, tries to imagine how she used to be, feeling nothing, wanting nothing. She glances back towards the corridor leading to One. She could go back to him, back to the machine she really is. Back to Hera…

For a long second, she is frozen on the peak of Mount Arion, body poised to jump, ready to end everything. The long span of nothingness as she falls, the freedom, then a swift, sharp end. A shudder runs through her, the flesh body overtaking hard logic, need supplanting emptiness. Her fingers fumble on the lock code, but after a second try, the hatch opens. Galen is there and her body responds; he is the thing she needs.

Before she can even see his face, he is shouting at her. “What the frak was that? You frakking drugged me! What the hell is going on?” He’s peering past her, out into the blank space of the landing bay. “And where the frak are we?” 

Galen takes an unsteady step in her direction and Boomer rushes to the side to close the hatch. She needs him to stay inside. Cavil would kill him. 

“I can explain.” She leans back into bulkhead. Galen’s eyes are glittering and hard, mouth curled the way it had been that day in the cell, before she was shot. _Machines don’t have feelings._

“You’ve got about three frakking seconds,” he barks at her.

She can’t meet his eyes. “I did something… I took Hera.” Dizziness washes over her, a cold tingling spreading into her hands and fingers.

“What do you mean, you took Hera?” He steadies himself with a hand gripping the ECO chair. 

She glances at the open foot locker and Galen’s eyes follow hers, mouth falling open when he puts it all together. Shock makes his cheeks go pale.

“I took her, Galen. She’s the last of our kind. Cavil…” She feels the machine part inside her, Cavil’s insistence on this course of action. But the humanity tears at her insides, pulling and twisting until she can’t think. “Oh my god, why did you make me this way?” She sinks to her knees, her limbs feeling weak and watery.

“Why did we — what??” Oh, my gods.” Rage pulls his lips tight and thin. “I didn’t frakking make you and I damn well didn’t make you kidnap a _godsdamned child!_.” 

“Please, Galen! No. I’m sorry.” Shame and need roll through her and she tries to rise up. He doesn’t understand!

“Frak you, Boomer. Godsdamned motherfrakker!” Galen’s started to pace. “How could I let this happen? How could I let you do this to me again?!” He rushes at her and slams her head into the bulkhead. His fingers dig into her shoulders as he shakes her. “What do you have over me? Why Boomer? Why me?” 

Tears are choking her as she begs, “Please, Galen. I love you so much. I never—” She coughs and sputters and Galen shakes her harder. “I never thought you’d come with me. I— I’ll save her. We can save her!” Boomer’s voice sharpens as she tries to touch his face, make a connection.

Galen recoils and shoves her away. “Don’t frakking touch me. How could I be so frakking stupid!” 

“Galen…” she groans and curls against the wall. She watches his shoulders slump and he falls into the chair facing away from her. My god, she thinks, Cally had done him a favor hadn’t she? Killing her all those years ago. Boomer squeezes her belly, remembers the hot pain lancing through her chest and stomach. He’d hated her and loved her, but she had been in his arms when she died. This…this was so much worse.

With motions like swimming in cold water, Boomer reaches for her sidearm, remembering more that she’s tried to forget. The taste of gunmetal in her mouth, the firing powder, the smell of burning flesh. This time she’d get it right. 

She flicks open the holster strap and grips the weapon. It’s cool to the touch, heavy in her hand. She knows the way to do it this time, against her temple. Her arm is weighted with grief as she raises the gun and slides the safety off.

Her tears are drying on her face as she watches Galen for a long minute, cataloging his shape in the familiar orange suit, his laughter from a lifetime ago. She wants to die in their house, an old woman with her husband and her grandchildren. The images spill into her mind, the heavy humidity of the rainy season, the gray clouds blurred by rain falling against her bedroom windows, Galen’s aging face appearing in front of her. His gap-toothed smile, yellowed and worn with age, as he presses his palm against her face. 

“I don’t know how I could have ever loved a coward like you.” Galen’s voice makes her blink. The projection sheers away as her eyes snap open. 

“What?” The gun wavers in her hand.

“You’ve always been a coward and I was too frakking stupid to see it.” He’s glaring at her from the ECO station.

“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t,” she says weakly. “I keep getting it wrong. Every choice I make…” She lets her arm slump onto her lap. “Even this. I can’t even die right.” She really doesn’t even care anymore. She lets her eyes drift closed again, floats on the lake outside their home with the sun shining on her face.

“Stop it, Boomer. Just frakking stop it. You keep running to that fake house with our fake kid and it’s just not frakking real. This is real.” He waves his arms around. “You kidnapped a child and gave her to a monster and now you’re going to shoot yourself to make _sure_ she dies?” Galen glares at her. “This is a godsdamned joke. We’re both a frakking joke.” 

“Help me, then. I don’t know what to do.” She’s simply tired of this life, resurrecting over and over again and she wants it to end. “I wanted a chance at that life, you know? But if I can’t —”

“You wanted a chance at having a kid, so you stole one? Took Hera _from her parents_ , so you could play house? My gods…” Galen’s voice sounds like rocks gritting in his throat.

“No, no. I didn’t! Galen…” She can’t even answer because she doesn’t know. Maybe she did. Maybe she is everything he says she is. A deep sob tears through her and she dissolves into tears.

Her chest hurts as she tries to breathe, choking on grief and pain until her throat is raw. The machine inside her grows quiet and she sees it for the empty thing that it was. A tease that Cavil used to get his way, a flat release from pain and doubt so she didn’t have to feel what she had lost. Her life with Galen, her life as a pilot on Galactica, her friends, the only things that ever seemed real to her. All she ever wanted was to be that woman in the house with the beautiful smile and fresh cut flowers in perfect vases with the man she loved. She’d never asked to be a machine.

A long time later, Galen turns towards her again. 

“Sharon…” He swallows and takes a breath. “I can’t fix you. You’re not a ship with a broken part I can replace. I know that now.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “For so many frakking years you were all just machines and I wanted you all to die, to pay for what you did to the Colonies. But it’s my fault, too, all of our faults. We frakking made you and gave you life.” He shakes his head, face grim. “So much frakking arrogance.”

He straightens in the seat and gives her a level stare. “You want to die, I won’t stop you. Hell, I’ll even try to save the kid if you off yourself. But if you want to get Hera back to Galactica, I’ll help figure out how to do it. I frakking hate the whole thing, but I’ll help you.” 

She watches him with wide eyes, afraid to hope. “What about us?”

Galen huffs and curls his lips in disgust. “Don’t push it, Boomer.”

* * * * *

Boomer stays on the floor of the raptor for a long time with her eyes closed. She’s re-holstered her weapon and her hands lay idly in her lap. She lets the hum of the Colony and the subtle motion of the living ship lull her into calm. She doesn’t project the house on Picon or imagine a happier Galen coming in as dusk settles over the lake. Instead, she climbs the final steps of Mount Arion, a maiden in white peering out through a heavy fog towards the dim orange light of a setting sun. The waves crash beneath her, inviting her in, promising only brief pain, then a life to end. Peace.

On the dark rocks of the mountain, she sways unsteadily on her feet, wind at her back compelling her forward to spill bitter blood. It’s the clang of a tool that brings her sharply back to the present, to this tiny, worn-out raptor where her former lover works and curses at things gone wrong. He’s fixing something because that’s what he does; his hands can’t stay still. The familiarity of it forms a knot in her throat and she lets tears come again. She feels like she’s cried forever, stuck in this small space with a man who hates her and loves her, as she hates and loves herself. She is a coward, she knows, afraid to be part of her line, of needing human touch like she needs air. For these long months with Cavil, she rejected all things human, living as his mistress and his servant, denouncing her soul in favor of his self-serving prophecies. It felt like an answer because someone else made the decisions. Now, she knows she has to take the next step, make a choice that guarantees nothing. 

Leaning forward, Boomer pushes her hair off her face and eases the numbness that’s been crawling up her spine from the hard deck. The mist and humidity of Mount Arion has lifted, leaving only purpose and resolve. Not to die, not yet. Maybe to live.

Slowly, she stands, letting her body adjust after so long sitting. Glancing into the cockpit, she sees wires hanging from below the copilot controls. Galen is talking softly to himself as he repairs whatever problem he’s found. These are his birds and he still loves them. He nurses them back to health so they can continue to fly. She wonders if he knows he does that for her, too. The knot forms in her throat again and she swallows it away. The time for tears is past. 

Moving forward, she leans into the shallow space of the cockpit. Galen stiffens, but keeps working beneath the panel. 

“I’ll get her, but you need to stay here. Will the ship be ready to fly?” Boomer wants to see his face, but he doesn’t turn. 

“Yeah. Bad relay. Should be another five minutes.” His voice is muffled and she can’t tell how he feels. She needs not to care so much.

The ship shakes violently without warning and Boomer blinks, listening to the sounds around them. There’s another rumbling beneath the raptor and she holds on to the bulkhead. 

“What the frak was that?” Galen asks, rubbing his head where it struck the panel. His dark eyes glance up at the window.

“Galactica. They must have found us.” Boomer steps away from the cockpit. “I’ve got to go now. Don’t leave the ship.” She hits the hatch and dashes off the wing. 

The ship continues to shudder and she runs across the empty space to reach a wall where she can sense the Colony under her fingers. It imprecise, just impressions from the living tissue of the huge ship, but it’s enough to sense the pain and panic. She runs another twenty-five meters and finds an opening to the stream. She shields her thoughts and touches the surface of the cool gel. The data is chaotic, voices discordant as the hybrids work together to fight off the attacking force. She searches for a memory of Hera, where they’ve taken her, and pulls her fingers out of the wetness.

The Colony continues to rumble under the fire of whatever Galactica has sent to fight them. From the stream, Boomer knows that the hybrids are now off-line, a feat she cannot understand. The centurions and various Fours and Fives scurry through the ship, panicking and speaking in sharp bursts of words. One is deep inside the Colony and too far away to stop what Boomer’s about to do.

She finds Hera with a Four, calm as ever and maneuvering a long silver probe into place near Hera’s head. 

“You’re just going to keep doing that, even though the hybrids are offline?” She says calmly as she steps into the room to peer at Hera. The girl is unconscious and still under two thick straps that pin her to the table. She glances away, can’t let herself feel the panic of what she’d done.

“You overestimate their chances,” the Four says blandly and bends to re-aim the device. As he’s about to speak again, Boomer grips his head and twists hard to break his neck. With grim satisfaction, she tosses him to the ground and loosens Hera’s restraints. She scoops up the unconscious girl and speeds as best she can back to the raptor. 

The Colony lists to the side and they stumble into a wall. Gunfire, both human and centurion, rages around them as she regains her footing. It takes a moment, but soon she realizes they are moving towards it. She pauses near a stream portal and slides her fingers into the gel once again. She sends information to the centurions that diverts them from the landing bay. It is a ruse that should buy her the precious few minutes she needs to get Hera to the raptor. 

As she approaches the end of the corridor that leads into the landing bay, she sees the raptor’s hatch begin to lift. She breathes a little, knowing that Galen is okay. The gunfire, once sharp, moves off and she picks up speed to race across the open space.

To her right, shouting and screaming attract her attention.

“Hera! Boomer! Stop where you are!” It’s Athena and Helo. 

Boomer halts and swings to face them. Hera grips her around the neck as she faces a cluster of men and women with their weapons trained on her.

“I have her! Hera! I was saving her. Bringing her back. I-I made a mistake.” 

Helo starts towards her and Athena shoves him back. “Give me my daughter,” she shouts.

Boomer faces her sister with wide eyes and eases her grip on the girl to let her slide down to stand in front of her. Athena steps forward to close the gap and Hera stumbles into her mother’s arms. Athena holds her close but keeps her gaze pinned on Boomer. She can see death in Athena’s eyes and raises her chin. 

“Tell the old man, I owed him one.” She’d pledged to repay him and she had. Hera was safe now.

Athena barks at her, “Doesn’t change anything you did though.”

“No. We all make our choices. Today, I made a choice. I think it’s my last one.” With her words, she feels a sense of resolve and a quieting of her restless, indecisive mind. She won’t have Galen or Picon, but at least she’s not a machine.

“This is all very touching, but can we please get the frak out of here?” Starbuck’s voice intrudes.

Boomer glances at Starbuck and Lee. “You should know that your raptor’s been destroyed. You can’t go back that way.” She nods behind them, to the mouth of the corridor that led them to the bay.

With her eyes still focused on Boomer, Athena hands Hera to Helo and points her weapon at her chest. Boomer’s heart rate barely moves. She’s ready to die.

“Wait!” Galen bursts out of the raptor and runs towards them.

“Galen, no!” she screams and lurches backwards to stop him. He grips her hard around the waist and shoves her behind him. 

“Chief! Get the frak out of the way,” Athena snaps, waving the end of her gun at him. Galen’s hand tightens around Boomer’s arm and she winces.

“No frakking way, Sharon. She frakked up. I get it. But you know exactly why, right? You’ve always known because you are just like her. Leave her alone. You got what you wanted, now get the hell out of here before the centurions find you again.” He bites out the words and Boomer’s mind swims with confusion and relief. He wants her to live!

“Chief, get out of the frakking way,” Starbuck shouts. 

Galen glares at her. “Stay out of it!” he shouts back and they stare at each other until Starbuck waves him off and rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

Lee’s angry voice cuts the tension. “We don’t have time for this. Fall back!” He hollers at the Marines on his right flank. 

“Helo, let’s go!” Starbuck yells again and sets into motion. 

Helo pulls at Athena’s arm and Boomer feels a spark of hope. “Leave her. We have Hera.” Around them the massive ship groans and shudders. “Come on before they launch nukes.”

Finally, Athena relents with a fierce glare and a sharp jerk of her weapon. She turns and disappears with the rest of them back into the glowing purple corridors of the ship. The sounds of approaching centurions reach them and Galen yanks her arm. “Let’s get the frak out of here!”

They run back to the raptor and Boomer slams herself into the cockpit. She hits the controls and they burst off the landing pad.

Boomer pushes hard on the throttle and gravity presses her back into the seat. As they near the opening into space, explosions and debris fly as far as she can see amid the swirling gases of the singularity. 

“Frak!” she shouts as the ship suddenly sputters, losing thrust and lurching starboard. 

“Godsdamnit, engine two is out. Frakking hell, I fixed that last week.” The ship keels before Boomer can ease off the throttle. Their bodies are whipped to the side and the ship slams into a wall and bounces off. 

“Set ‘er down!” Galen shouts. The wiring near his legs starts to smolder and he reaches around for a fire extinguisher. “Frak!” he shouts again. She didn’t remember seeing one.

Boomer manages to down the bird back in the landing bay with a hard thump and throws off her harness. Galen’s already unbuckled and is patting his legs where sparks have singed his orange jumpsuit. He climbs out of the seat as Boomer hits the hatch opening. 

“We’re going to have to run for it, follow me. It’s our only chance.” She pulls out her sidearm and Galen takes up behind her. Boomer leads them in a loping run to hug the outer perimeter of the giant bay. They slide along the soft walls until they reach the corridor where the Galactica crew had just escaped.

They follow the corridor, drawing close to the sounds of gunfire to emerge near the wreckage where Galactica has slammed into the Colony. The walkways are filled with smoke, but they rush through until they find clean air. The _whirr-ching_ of centurions comes closer and they pin themselves against the bulkhead to hide.

The centurions march past and Boomer suppresses a gasp. Cavil is nestled among them.

“Galen, let’s go!” She pulls at him as he’s bent over a downed soldier. He stand and nods, checking a weapon he’s pulled off the body. “We’re losing a lot of men.” His face is set in a grim line.

“Nothing we can do. Come on!” She follows a safe distance behind the centurions, pausing each time they open fire on Colonial soldiers. She doesn’t have enough firepower to kill them from behind and she needs to see where Cavil is going. There’s a blazing hatred in her blood; she realizes to want to see him destroyed. 

At the narrow end of the corridor, the centurions are ambushed and Cavil demands to see the Admiral. Boomer and Galen follow closely behind the two Marines who escort One towards the Combat Information Center.

The CIC is a bloody mess of downed bodies, sparking panels, and chaos. In the commotion, Boomer sees Cavil grab Hera and she gasps. He’s leaning down and she can see the crook of his arm where he must have a gun. Galen freezes and she presses her shoulder against his back. They’re in the shadows and she watches as Cavil and Adama argue. Caprica Six and Gaius stand as wide-eyed witnesses to the showdown.

“We’ll give you resurrection,” Saul Tigh interrupts from above them. Boomer looks sharply up to see Ellen, Tigh, and Tory standing around a hybrid tank. It’s Sam in there. She blinks. _That’s how they took the Colony hybrids offline._ She feels a lurch of pride and love towards them, her family, and blinks back tears. She grips Galen’s arm and feels the press of his hand on hers. She’s not alone.

“I’ve got a lot of people dying out there,” Adama barks, and Cavil yells for a comm. Moments later the gunfire stops and Hot Dog’s voice comes over the speakers. “They’re falling back!”

The blasts and gunfire stutter to a halt across the ship and the CIC falls eerily quiet. Boomer glances between Cavil and her four predecessors on the catwalk. He has yet to let the little girl go. 

“How are you going to give me resurrection without your precious Tyrol?” Cavil asks, gripping the little girl harder. Hera cries out and Caprica Six takes a step forward. “Get back!” he shouts at her. 

Galen suddenly steps forward. “I’m right frakking here.”

Cavil turns. “Well, get up there already. We don’t have all day.” His watery eyes slide behind Galen to Boomer. “And where the frak have you been?”

Boomer just freezes, feels the eyes of every single person on her. She glances at where Galen has gone, climbing up the stairs to join his kin. She presses her lips together and stays silent. 

“Ingrate,” Cavil barks and turns to watch Galen join the others.

“Let’s get on with it,” Tigh says and Boomer watches a Six named Savannah tighten the tubes coming out of Sam’s tank. An Eight, Joanna, stands at a nearby control panel awaiting instructions.

“Make sure they do it,” Cavil instructs a Four who’s appeared in the CIC. She watches as the four ancient cylons bend and dip their hands into the hybrid tank. 

Moments later, the CIC lights flicker madly and the Four calls out, “That’s it. It seems right. It’s downloading now.” 

Boomer’s stomach churns with the thought of downloading into a new body ever again. _Resurrection. Oh, god, no. Not that. Not for Cavil._ She can’t imagine resurrection in Cavil’s hands, his sickening stubby fingers and depraved morality.

Stepping sharply forward, she yanks her firearm out of its holster. “No, Cavil. Not again!” Boomer squeezes the trigger and shoots Cavil squarely in the back of the head. Before he hits the ground, she shoots the Four, too, and he crumples against a panel leaving a bright red smear as he slides down to the deck.

“Stop!” Boomer cries up at the Final Five. Joanna hits the control panel and the lights flicker again before brightening to a steady glare. 

Galen straightens and flicks wetness off of his hand. He steps forward and stares down at her. For a panicked moment, she thinks she’s screwed up again. “This is Boomer,” he says, echoing his words from a few days before. “And she’s just saved your asses.”

She shivers at his words and steps back into the shadows, still afraid for what could happen to her. A few moments later, Galen is there and she is shaking as he takes her into his arms. 

He’s stroking her hair when a violent explosion rocks Galactica and they fly hard to port. Boomer’s head slams against a sharp panel and they land in a tangled heap. The back of her skull bursts with pain. Lights and debris start to fall, scattering broken metal and glass everywhere. Another explosion jars them from behind and she coughs against sudden acrid smoke. 

“Fire!” Galen shouts and rushes away from her. She tries to see where he goes, but the ship tilts and she can’t figure out how people can walk sideways. Did they hit the anti-grav? 

She raises a hand to the back of her head and it comes back covered in slick blood, five fingers becoming ten as her vision swims.

She hears the hissing of fire extinguishers and sees the whitening of smoke pouring across her legs. She tries to breathe and coughs hard, sending another searing pain through her skull. Sparkling silver and green stars creep along the sides of her vision, before stuttering and blinking out. Somewhere far away she hears Galen shouting at her. 

His pained voice drifts away as the blackness takes over.

* * * * *

Boomer’s body floats down, arms outspread as she drifts towards the sharp foaming surf beneath her. The majestic peak of Mount Arion is at her back, its strong facade blocking out the morning sun. Her shimmering dress billows out like wings as she soars over the wide expanse of ocean laid out before her. She wants to explore the soft curves of mid-ocean swells and to feel the slick dorsal fins of dolphins frolicking in the waves.

As she swoops overhead, she imagines their chattering conversations and feels drawn to them, letting her hand slide through cool salty water to brush a tail. They offer her peace and respite and to carry her to safe shores. She consents, no longer willing to crash onto the rocks, needing instead to live and breathe and love.

“Ms. Valerii?” A voice penetrates her vision and she stirs, floating on the backs of the dolphins, not understanding who’s talking or why they’d use that name.

“It’s time to leave Galactica.” It’s a woman’s voice. 

The brightness of her projection fades as Boomer’s eyes blink open. The sea and the dolphins are gone, leaving only darkness punctuated with soft blobs of light.

“Ishay?” she asks, reaching out a hand.

Cool fingers wrap around hers. “Yeah, it’s me. We’re kicking you out today. Chief Tyrol is waiting on the hangar deck for you. Specialist Glitzen will take you.”

“Oh, okay.” She smiles in the direction of the nurse’s voice. “Thank you for everything.” Boomer feels her heart swell. She never expected such kindness.

“I found some clothes for you…pants and a shirt. There’s a jacket, but it’s big. Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve heard it’s warm down there today.” Ishay’s voice is wistful.

“When are you going down?” Boomer asks, taking the bundle of clothes that Ishay has pressed into her lap. She feels the fabric and identifies pants. She flicks them out with long years of practiced ease. She thinks she can get dressed without seeing. Has done it before, right?

“Here, let me help,” Ishay says as Boomer’s foot get tangled. “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Boomer pushes her legs into the pants and lifts her hips to pull them up to her waist. She’ll be happy to get out of this sickbay bed.

“Now the shirt. Just pull that gown off.” Boomer does as she’s told and holds out the thin garment.

Ishay threads the sleeves onto Boomer’s arms and pulls the front of the shirt closed. “Here, feel the collar and slide your fingers along the edge until they’re together. Button from there.” Boomer thinks Ishay’s watching her and she smiles faintly. 

As she clasps the last button, Ishay speaks again, “Looks good. I’m going to put these socks and boots on you myself. It’ll be easier. You can work with the Chief to practice getting dressed and getting around. He was pretty insistent that he wanted you off the ship and with him as soon as possible.” 

“He’s not the Chief of the deck for being shy, right?” Boomer chuckles, unable to hide her surprise and delight that Galen wants her. She knows it, he’s said as much, but there’s a wonder to it that she can’t yet manage.

“Right.” Ishay says, and they finish dressing her together. 

“Glitzen will take you down in a wheelchair—” Ishay stops as Boomer starts to interrupt. She envisions her putting a hand out to stop her words. “Sorry, but there’s so much debris in the corridors, it makes more sense to wheel you around it than worry about you getting hurt trying to walk.” 

“Okay. I understand.” Boomer brushes hair off her face.

“So, that’s it. Good luck to you.” Ishay’s words are clipped and she senses the woman walking away.

“Ishay?” Boomer says tentatively. “Thank you. I mean, you know who I am and you still treated me with compassion. I— thank you.”

“You’ve lost your sight. You deserve compassion. Now, off you go.” Ishay’s voice softens slightly before she hears the swish of what she thinks is the curtain. Moments later, heavier footsteps and the voice of Marion Glitzen, nurse’s aide. 

“Ready, Ms. Valerii?” he asks. 

“Call me Boomer. Sharon Valerii — I’m not her anymore.”

He clears his throat then speaks again. “Okay. Ready…Boomer?” 

When she nods, he guides her into the chair and whisks her out of sickbay.

* * * * *

“We’re here. You ready?” Galen asks, voice lit with excitement. She hears the raptor’s engines fade to silence and Boomer’s pulse quickens. It’s hard to believe that she’s about to step onto a new home.

“Yeah. I think so.” She scoots forward and he nudges her up by the elbow. She plants her feet on the deck and stands. 

“Gonna take a while to get used to this,” she says, feeling herself waver as she takes a step. She can vaguely see a brightness where she imagines the hatch has just opened. No worse or better than the day she woke up after hitting her head.

“Doc said it could come back,” he answers, voice hopeful. He desperately wants her to see this new Earth they keep talking about.

“Maybe,” she says brightly. He needs for her to hope more than she does. Her gut tells her the vision’s gone, but she lets him believe until he’s ready. Coming out of this unscathed is more than she could have hoped for.

“Couple of weeks and you’ll be seeing my ugly mug,” he quips, and maneuvers her slowly out of the raptor. She chuckles and holds onto his arm.

“Step up,” he says. She knows the ship well enough to make it out without tripping. When she reaches the end of the wing, he grasps her around the waist and helps her down. She inhales deeply and grins. 

“Wow. It’s fantastic!” She revels in the warm air against her exposed skin and face. It’s the best thing she’s ever smelled. So fresh.

“Tell me about it,” she asks, gripping his forearm with both hands and letting him guide her slowly across uneven ground. 

“Green,” is the first word he says. “Really green, so green that it almost looks fake. Like Cloud 9, except when you get close you can see the dirt and the bugs. Come here, I’ll show you. I mean…frak.” 

She can imagine him running his hand into his hair in frustration. She smiles.  
“Galen, it’s okay.”

“I know…I just.” His voice drifts off. They both have a lot to get used to. 

“Come on, sit here,” he says and guides her down to the ground. Their knees brush as they sit across from each other cross-legged.

“Here,” Galen says. “Hold out your hands.” She does and he drops something into them. Closing her fists, she feels grit and strands of plant life. She lets her fingers dance against her palm to feel them. 

“It feels so good.” She lets the dirt fall between her fingers and slides her hands out to the side, feeling the prickle of grass and weeds. Pressing down, she senses the sharpness of rocks and digs the fingernails of one hand into the earth. It’s cool and damp and she grips a handful. 

“I never thought I’d have this again.” She moves her full hand to her face, inhaling the dark scent of fresh soil. It tickles her nose and she snorts a laugh, then drops the pile back onto the ground. She claps her hands together and wipes them on her pants. Her fingertips find Galen’s knees and she squeezes.

“I wish you could see it,” he says softly, stroking her wrist with a finger. His voice is so sad and she wants that to go away.

“So show me,” she says.

“What?” He’s confused and she smiles at how he’s been human so long he’s forgotten everything it means to be cylon.

“Project. Show me what you see. I want to be here with you.” 

Galen takes a breath and presses his finger harder against her wrist. Her world brightens. A sharp horizon spreads out over a wide green landscape. Gently sloping hills give way to valleys filled with pale green grasses and white-speckled trees in haphazard rows. In the distance, a mountain range with a trio of rocky peaks jut into faint clouds. Briefly, she thinks of her own projected Mount Arion, where she had once wished to die.

There is an odd peace in her blindness, she realizes. It’s a world without distraction where thinks about who and what she is: not machine, not human, but something in between that needs no label. 

Now, through Galen’s eyes, she feels a tingling of the hope she once had as Sharon Valerii, young and naive, thinking of mustering out to lead a normal, happy life. This Earth, not so different from Picon, carries with it the emptiness of what they’ve lost, but also the possibilities of something new.

When Galen’s projection changes to show her own face, she does not mind. She no longer hates those brown eyes and dark hair. Instead she sees just herself, untroubled, with a smudge of dirt on her nose. A face similar to her sisters, but not the same.

With wind ruffling her hair, Boomer smiles and watches her face move closer to his. 

“Kiss me, Galen,” she says.

His eyes drift closed and he does. They cling to each other on the soft dirt, connected by their shared projection, the green grass, and a wide open future.


End file.
